Reflections
by The Girl in the Fireplace
Summary: Inspector Dale Smith and PC Tony Stamp investigate a rape case. After arresting a suspect, Smithy starts to have doubts over the boy's guilt, and with more rapes following after the arrest, the race is on to find the real culprit...
1. Chapter 1

**Reflections – Chapter 1** **– The Bill FanFic**

As PC Tony Stamp entered the disused hospital, he could feel the sense of anticipation rising in his stomach. It never got old in this job; you never could casually enter into any situation. There was always a lack of knowledge that either frightened you or – in his case – excited you. At his age people assumed life slowed down, that you gathered up your belongings and said "Thank you very much world, now that's me done," but for Tony that just seemed daft. Who in their right mind would go home and sit in a chair imagining all the fun stuff they could be doing when they could just as easy get off their backside and do it? He knew that if he was to give up his career and spend his time in his house reading or doing some boring crossword, he would most certainly be sectioned within about two days. So creeping his way along the back wall of what used to be the first floor corridor, he couldn't wipe the grin off his face. Inappropriate in the circumstances but he couldn't help it. Despite pursuing a suspected rapist in an area where he was potentially a sitting target, Tony Stamp could honestly say that he loved his job. Seeing the shadow of his fellow colleague Inspector Dale Smith, Tony beamed. Looking at Smithy was like looking at a younger version of himself, only Smithy had a better figure and more hair. His ready-to-fight attitude, coupled with his hard work and easy-going demeanour with the public gave him the reputation as one of THE best coppers in Sun Hill. Tony and Smithy went way back, back further than most people at that station. There were many things they had been through together, and in all those years Tony had grown to develop a real cast-iron respect for Smithy. No matter what situation he found himself in, he didn't give up fighting and he never lost his sense of right and wrong, always ensuring he did what was best for everyone concerned although not necessarily for him. He turned to face Smithy as they both stopped.

"He definitely came this way Sarge?" Tony whispered. He could see Smithy nod.

"Yep, and according to the plans of this place, just up ahead is what used to be an operating theatre." Tony grimaced. Hopefully there wouldn't be any of the old equipment left, or things might just get hairy.

"Apparently there's some old equipment left, according to the guy who owns this place." _Of course there would be_, Tony thought to himself.

"Ok we ready to go in?" whispered Tony. "Sir, we better had before he gets away."

"Yeah you're right. On three…" Tony and Smithy straightened their backs and prepared themselves for a potentially nasty confrontation. "One…two…three!" With that, the two officers crashed through the doors of the operating theatre, ASPs clutched firmly in their hands.

"Police! Come out from your hiding place! We know you're here, and you know why we're here. So let's not waste time by hiding eh?" Smithy waited. Tony paused. They couldn't hear anything, but then there was no way to get out. He had to be in the room.

"Come on! We WILL find you, we just thought we'd give you the chance to hand yourself in first, do yourself a favour y'know?" They heard a clatter and slowly a young boy of about 17 stood up.

"Thatta boy, come on." Tony walked slowly towards the boy, trying to determine if he was armed. Seeing no weapons, he grabbed the boy and placed cuffs on him.

"Conrad James, I am arresting you on suspicion of rape." At that, the boy's face became bewildered and scared. "You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention – when questioned – something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. Do you understand?"

The boys voice quivered. "Rape?"

"Yeah, you don't know anything about it. We've heard it all before, come on." Tony lead him out of the room. However, Smithy couldn't help but feel something wasn't right. Conrad had looked terrified when they said 'rape' and he looked confused. It was weird, and he hated to admit it, but Smithy felt this wasn't over yet.

"Coming Sarge?" He heard Tony shout fro down the corridor.

"Yep. Coming."

**End Of Chapter 1**


	2. Chapter 2

_I don't own The Bill or anything like that, but I love it and want to try and see what I can write based on it. Hopefully it's half decent, please review and I'll try to review others ____ x_

**Reflections – Chapter 2**

It had been a long night, going from bad to worse. Conrad's brief had arrived and after that the next hour was spent listening to 'No comment' after every question they asked. It was as if he didn't want to help himself, after all he was facing a charge of rape, which carried a very heavy sentence with it! It was something Smithy couldn't understand, the whole 'No comment' thing. Why would anyone put themselves in that position? It just looks worse if they don't answer, and if they haven't done anything – and Smithy didn't think that Conrad had – then why would he refuse to help himself? He sighed. Sitting alone in his office, he glanced around himself. Since being promoted to Inspector, he'd sat in this office several times, but he'd never really taken in what it was like. It was warm, he made sure of that with his portable heater (heating was broken and he had frozen his knackers off doing overtime paperwork last week!) The walls displayed his certificates he'd gained over the years, and some photos. Usually he was rather private in his life but there were those few memories he shared with the world, like the time he and Tony had gotten drunk at the pub with PC Roger Valentine and Mickey Webb. _Haha, that was a good night, Mickey's face when we took that photo! _Smithy smiled despite himself. That night, Tony had bought drinks all night after getting lucky on the lottery (it was £103 but they had acted like it was the jackpot at the time) Mickey flirted with the barmaid, promising her a yacht with his share of the winnings, and Roger threw a dart and completely missed the board, instead narrowly missing the top of some punter's head! They had eventually left after getting – he wanted to say drunk but it was more like 'utterly gazebo'd!' – and as they finally made it back to Smithy's, they all crashed there for the night and when they woke up it was paracetamol all round. Just looking at the photo – Mickey pulling a shocked face and Roger grinning like a maniac – made Smithy cheer up. Tonight had been a tough one and it wasn't about to get any easier, so relaxing helped. There was a knock at his door.

"Sir?" Smithy swivelled round in his chair.

"Come in Tony." Indicating the photograph. "D'you remember that night?" Tony chuckled.

"Bits of it. Something about a dog springs to mind, can't remember much else." He sat down opposite Smithy. "I remember the stonking hangover afterwards!" He laughed, and Smithy grinned too. It was nice, sharing jokes wit an old friend, unwinding. Sometimes, back in the older days, there were times when Smithy thought it would all be over too soon. The Sun Hill Fire, the terror attacks, the Sun Hill serial killer…it just went on and on and sometimes Smithy had feared he'd never make it this far, or that he'd lose another friend like Tony, the way he lost Sam Harker and Cass Rickman and Nick Klein and all the other people whom Sun Hill had destroyed.

"Sarge? You alright?" Tony glanced at him, concerned. Smithy nodded.

"Yeah just, reminiscing y'know? Remembering all the stuff we've been through over the years, cos there's certainly been enough of it!" Tony nodded.

"There certainly has. I often thought if I'd make it this far in the job, or if they'd have sacked me off long ago!"

"Smithy threw his head back laughing. "Get rid of Stampy? Never! They'd have to go through me!"

At that, Tony beamed. "Dale Smith, Force To Be Reckoned With!" They both roared with laughter, sharing with each other many years of jokes and laughs that they would never forget.

After a few minutes, Smithy calmed down. He turned to Tony, who slowly stopped laughing. This was serious.

"Tony…that kid…Conrad." He rubbed his face with his hands and then looked his friend straight in the eye. "He didn't do it." Before Tony could interrupt, he intercepted. "I know, I know. His DNA was found at the scene and he did know the woman personally. But what if…well its undeniable he was there, but what if he wasn't the only guy there? What if he interrupted something and is too scared to talk?" Tony grimaced.

"I must admit, his reaction when we said 'rape', he looked genuinely shocked and scared. I guess I just didn't want to believe we were chasing a dead lead."

Silence fell between the two men, both trapped in their own thoughts. An awkward stillness settled in the office, the atmosphere becoming cold and confusing. They had honestly believed it was Conrad, pinned all their hope on him. After all, there were no witnesses and no other DNA links. It was one of those cases where even nothing was something, because it had to be. After what seemed like hours, Tony spoke.

"Sarge, we need to release Conrad. We have nothing on him, and soon enough his brief will kick up a fuss." Smithy nodded grimly. "But we will find this guy Sarge. It's just a matter of time, I know it is!" Tony stood up, stretching as he did so. "Shall I go and inform Sergeant Stone that Conrad's to be released?" Silence. Then Smithy slowly nodded.

"Yeah. Yeah you'd better." Tony nodded before leaving, his recognition to Smithy of their situation. Once again a solid silence settled in, and Smithy was once again lost in his thoughts. If it wasn't Conrad, then who was it? How could they get him? Would this woman receive justice? It was times like this that made Smithy question his abilities as an Inspector, and after what happened with Jason Devlin, he often felt he didn't deserve the position anyway. As far as he was concerned, he got it under false pretences and that bothered him. A lot. Turning back to face the wall, Smithy reverted back to the photo on his wall. Mickey, Roger and Tony, all smiling at him, confident in their role and their abilities. Could he begin to believe in himself like that? _I need this. I need to find this guy, to prove I'm good deep down. _He was going to do this. Tony had faith in him, and maybe that was all he needed. A friend. But it still felt false, like his hope was conjured by his brain trying to keep him happy, and it wasn't working. A sad feeling sat in his chest, and he slowly turned up the heater in his office. Why was it so cold inside?

**End of Chapter 2. **


	3. Chapter 3

_First of all, I apologise because I've been making Tony call Smithy 'Sarge', when in fact, he should be calling him 'Sir' because he has been promoted to Inspector. I wasn't sure what he should be called, so I'll rectify this for future chapters. Thanks for this and all other reviews, please enjoy this next chapter __ x_

**Reflections – Chapter 3**

As dawn fell on Sun Hill, people everywhere were waking up: in their beds; in their lover's arms; on a friend's couch; in their tents; on park benches and just about anywhere they could find. The crisp morning air bit at the faces of those on the streets, slapping their cheeks as they busied about their daily business. To everyone, this was what seemed to be a normal, average day in the city of London. Nothing significant, just your run-of-the-mill morning. It obviously had not occurred to anyone to check out the third garage from the left. On the Larkmead, just beside the youth club there. That morning, nobody felt the need to question the rats gathered around the garage, or the odd smell that was emitting from it, or indeed the pool of water gathered at the bottom. It never seemed to bother anyone walking past, not one person asked any questions that morning. Had they, and they might have gotten the answer that no one wanted to hear. But no one did, not until one young boy – aged about six – let his curiosity get the better of him. Walking past, he had noticed the rats, recoiled at the smell and stepped in the water. This intrigued him, and so on that fateful morning, young Kieran Hayes walked over to the door of that garage and pulled, so hard his little hands got sore, but he kept trying because he wasn't one to give up. He stretched and he tugged until eventually the door began to slide upwards, revealing such a stench that Kieran gagged upon smelling it. However, he persevered until finally the door was completely open, and that's when Kieran stopped. That day, the day that little Kieran Hayes died inside. The day he stopped believing, because what he saw that day, in that garage, was so inhumane it broke his little heart in two. No one there to comfort such a small child, as the silent tears slipped down his cheeks.

"Sir!" PC Mel Ryder ran into the canteen upon seeing Inspector Smith. He had just sat down to enjoy his refs – he didn't often get to take them – but instantly upon hearing her voice he knew he'd still never be able to enjoy them.

"PC Ryder?"

"Sir. A call's just came in from a woman on the Larkmead. She wouldn't give her name." Smithy's heart sank. He knew what was coming next. "Another woman has been found, and this one in particular is in a bad way." Smithy grimly nodded.

"Ok Mel. Let's go." As he stood up to leave, he turned to her and asked; "Who found the woman?" He looked as Mel's face fell further.

"A little boy Sir. Six years old, wandering on his own, found her in a garage. It was only when a passer-by spotted the open garage did they look in and see the boy there."

Smithy's heart sunk down further until he could feel a lead weight in his stomach. A six year old boy? Someone that age should never have to see anything so vulgar, but then nobody on this earth should, and it made Smithy shake with anger every time he thought of the lowlifes out there who created this madness. The madness they had to contain, and the mess they were left with. As he ran out to the patrol car – Mel hot on his heels – Smithy tried to mentally prepare himself for the task ahead. Despite being 10 years on the job, he still struggled to detach himself emotionally from the sights he saw. It made him a hypocrite of sorts, because he preached everyday to his team not to let their feelings get in the way, yet on more than one occasion Smithy himself had let emotions mess with his judgement. This case was one of those, the ones that break your heart piece by piece til there's nothing left, and if you couldn't forget it when you went home, it would drive you insane. Pushing his thoughts to some outer part of his brain, Smithy slid into the car and focused on getting himself and Mel to the scene as soon as possible. So reversing out into the drive, he sped off into the street, determined more than ever to uncover the missing piece of his puzzle.

Arriving upon the scene, it was sheer chaos, with ambulances and police cars all over. Passers-by were stopping to stare, whilst the journalists slinked around like insects, sucking onto the first piece of juicy gossip they could get to. It was not a chaos they were unfamiliar with, but it always hit you when you arrived on a scene just how bad it was going to be, simply by how many people were there. This one was particularly bad. Stepping forwards, Smithy was beckoned by the scene examiner, Eddie, who proceeded to show him the body. It was awful; she was badly beaten and bruised all over her body, clothes ripped off and discarded, forgotten. She was bound by the ankles and wrists with barbed wire, cutting deep into her pasty white flesh, having drawn blood but now dried up and crusted. Her hair was covering some of her face, but Smithy could still see bite marks upon her lips and a cut on her cheek. The smell surrounding her, clouding the garage, would make even the strongest of stomached people gag at first, and it combed Smithy's nostrils as he gazed in disgust at what remained of the young woman. He couldn't imagine her being anyone other than their dead body, but she was once somebody; with family, friends, a job maybe, and possibly a boyfriend – not a husband, no ring – who missed her. Or she could have been alone, leading a life undesired by most. Drug taking? Prostitution? She had been somebody, and now all she was was a mutilated body discarded in a garage like old junk. Eddie quietly surveyed the back of the garage, checking for anything that would give them a lead, but Smithy didn't hold out much hope. This guy had been meticulous so far, leaving nothing that he didn't want to, and Smithy had been clutching at fine straws for too long. He longed for that breakthrough, where the suspect messed up and gave them a little gift of evidence, but as Eddie turned to look at him, the grim expression he wore suggested today was not that day. As Smithy turned and left the garage, he made a silent promise to himself to find this guy in the next few days. Not a week, not a month, but the next few days. He would not let this go on, would not let this creep hurt more innocent women. He just had to find that evidence. As he watched the journalists swarm over the scene, he gave them the one-finger salute on passing.


	4. Chapter 4

_Sorry it's taking so long to post chapters. What with prelims and stuff I've barely had any time to do them! But I will be posting asap. I'm really enjoying writing this fic, and I hope you guys are enjoying reading it __ I will try to get chapters posted as soon as possible and please keep reviewing. I love knowing what people think of the chapters! XX_

**Reflections – Chapter 4**

It was silent. Smithy daren't make a sound for fear of destroying the fragility of the profound quiet. Any sort of noise at all would pierce it like a knife, and would appear so loud it would frighten the silence away. Glancing in his mirror, Smithy could see the little boy – Kieran – staring glumly out of the window, probably trying to forget the horrors he had just witnessed, and it made Smithy feel awful. Despite the little boy's lack of participation in his surroundings, Smithy could almost guess that – inside – he was screaming, screaming at the world that had let him down. Suddenly, possibly sensing the Inspector's eyes on him, Kieran glanced up at him, innocent eyes wide as he tried to work out why this man was staring at him.

"Hey. You OK?" Smithy looked at him with concerned eyes, and the little boy just sat in cold silence, neither committing himself to a 'yes' or a 'no'. Smithy allowed the silence to return, not wanting to put pressure on the little boy to talk to him. As they drove along the road leading to the police station, his radio crackled into life.

"Sierra Oscar to Sierra One." It was Nate.

"Go ahead."

"Sir, there's a woman in the front office for you, says she's got some information on these rape cases. I told her you were on your way."

"Ok PC Roberts. I'll be there in a few minutes." He paused to look into his mirror again at Kieran, concerned for him. "And can you have someone waiting in Custody to look after Kieran Hayes for me?"

"That the little boy from the scene?"

"Yeah. Thanks PC Roberts." He ended communication as he turned into the Yard. Parking the car, he turned off the ignition and turned to talk to Kieran.

"Kieran? When we get in there, there's gonna be one of my colleagues waiting to take you to the canteen to get some juice and something to eat. That ok with you?" He smiled encouragingly at the boy and, slowly, Kieran nodded in agreement.

"Ok then. Let's go." Smithy unfastened his seatbelt and stepped out of the car, breathing in the fresh air properly for the first time that morning. He opened Kieran's door and helped the small child climb out, taking his hand as he led him into the station. Waiting on them, was PC Tony Stamp.

"Stampy! How's things?" Smithy greeted his friend fondly, and Tony grinned back.

"Yeah not bad Sir." He looked at Kieran and gasped, as if seeing him for the first time. "Oh, and who is this young man?" Tony bent down so he was Kieran's height. "Hey little man. What's your name?" Kieran smiled, and Smithy noticed that the boy had instantly warmed to Tony. That was a good sign.

"I'm Kieran." He said, rather shyly. Tony took his hand and shook it, acting very proper.

"Nice to meet you Mr Kieran. My name's Tony Stamp. This here's my mate Smithy." Tony smiled encouragingly at Kieran, who returned the gesture. "So Kieran, how was it riding in a proper policeman's car?" The little boy grinned.

"It was so cool! It's really weird too." Tony laughed.

"Ah that's just Smithy. He's weird, but we love him anyway." He winked and Kieran laughed, gazing up at Smithy to see the man's reaction. Smithy just pretended to look shocked, but deep down he was just glad that someone had been able to get through to Kieran. He had been worried that the events of that morning would have an adverse effect on the little boy but thankfully he seemed alright, at least now he was in Tony's company.

"Right fella. I wondered if you would like to see where we hungry policeman have our lunch? It's not as wild as the police car, but there's a can of juice and some crisps in it for you." Kieran nodded enthusiastically, and Tony stood up to speak to Smithy.

"Sir, I'll take Kieran up to the canteen for a bit, get him something to eat." He lowered his voice. "I want to try to keep his mind off of everything that's happened today, as best I can anyway." Smithy nodded grimly. He knew that these events would stick with the young boy for the rest of his life, but if anyone could help him take his mind off it, even for a little while, Tony could.

"Fair enough. I gotta head to Reception; Nate says there's someone to see me. Might be important. I'll come and find you if there's any development."

"Sir." Tony nodded, before taking Kieran's hand and leading the young boy away towards the canteen, turning around to see Smithy mouth 'thank you' at him as he left.

"Excuse me." The young woman turned around and instantly Smithy was struck by how scared she looked. She had shadows under her eyes to indicate the nightmares that kept her awake at night, and she looked as if she'd been crying quite a lot. Smithy noted her scruffy appearance; ripped skinny jeans and a baggy jumper that bore the word 'Aiden' on it, and Converse trainers that had seen better days. No make-up and her hair tied back in a messy bun. It was possibly her style, but Smithy felt that it was more a statement; that something had caused her to give up on herself completely.

"Hi I'm Inspector Smith. My colleague on the desk says you have some information involving the rape cases we're dealing with?" The young girl paused for a moment before nodding, tears prickling her eyes. She had an air of defeat about her, one that Smithy had seen before, and he realised just what had happened.

"Yes um…I'm Lana. Lana Crowley. I uh, I need to speak to someone about the…the rapist. I think I can help." His throat tightened as he realised that before him stood someone who had survived these attacks. A girl who had been through deep hell and returned through the other side; the lucky one. Even at that he scoffed. Lucky. It made him so angry.

"Ok Lana. If you come through here, we can talk. Ok?" He smiled, attempting to look reassuring. Given the circumstances, he understood if men weren't high on her list of friends right now but he had to help her. Together they entered the small interview room at Reception, Smithy offering Lana a seat, which she gratefully accepted. She was visibly shaking and Smithy could see that it took all the strength she possessed not to simply collapse on the floor right in front of him. He wanted to reach out to her, do something that could help her, but no gesture seemed great enough.

"Ok Lana just…just take it slowly ok? Now, if you're alright to do so, can you tell me what it was you wanted to say?" Her eyes filled with fear, her hands wringing together as if she could somehow rub away the dirt that she felt grew all over her.

"Don't worry. Anything you tell us will be held in the strictest confidence, I promise you." At that she looked up at him, her pleading eyes looking for answers in him that he just didn't have. He decided to sit down, trying to disassemble the barrier between them and alleviate her obvious anxiety. It seemed to work, as she relaxed only slightly, and took a deep breath.

"Um, well…happened like this…"

**End of Chapter 4.**


	5. Chapter 5

_Just like to say, I will have more chapters up as soon as I can. However, stuff has been happening recently and I really have had no time (I know I keep saying this) but I promise more to come! Keep reading and reviewing! _

**Reflections – Chapter 5**

"I was walking home. I'd just finished my shift at the restaurant and I was making my way to the bus stop. It was just across the road from my work, but when I got there, um, some woman – Maggie I think she said her name was – told me that there'd been a crash somewhere in the city. She said it was pretty bad. I guess you guys already know about that, obviously. Uh…She said that all the…all the busses were either gonna be late or were off the road so…so I could be waiting a while. And of course, stupid, impatient me decided to walk home through the park. I guess it being dark should have dissuaded me but I was so tired. So tired…"

"When I got the park it was starting to get colder so I wrapped my long, navy blue coat around me to stave off the bitter wind. The park was scary erm….scary like..like when you walk along the street at night and feel like someone's following you. That kind of scary. So I walked a bit faster, but I had heels on and it was hard to see. I wanted to call someone, but my phone's battery had died and I'd forgot to charge it. I wish I had now."

"It was once I was about almost near the other side of the park that it…it um…it happened. I could see the gates. I was almost there when…when I felt…I felt a, uh, a hand on my back. I turned around and this man, this hooded man thrust a gun in my face. He uh…he said that…he said that if I didn't go with him then…….then he'd shoot me dead. Right there. I was so scared but I went with him. I thought 'at least if I go, there's a chance I can get away, y'know?' But he wasn't letting me escape. He had the gun at my back and told me to walk behind a set of trees in the middle of that bit in the park. The bit with the bench and the flower bed. Near the gates. There. Then he…he hit me on the back of the head with the gun. At least, I think he did. It was, uh, it hurt and…and my eyes went blurry. My vision. I couldn't see well and then….and then……"

"After, he just calmly walked away, running when he heard me scream. But I guess nobody saw him. I stopped screaming because I was scared he'd come back, so I pulled myself up and fixed myself. I was crying, it really hurt. Standing up, my legs were really shaky, I thought I was going to fall over. I stumbled across to the path and out of the park, then walked the few streets to my house. I didn't have enough money for a taxi. I know. I just didn't have enough. I was scared and by the time I got home, I was sick in the kitchen. I didn't sleep last night and…..and when I saw the appeal on the news I…well I'm here. Inspector? I need help. Can you help me?"


	6. Chapter 6

_Ah, so Chapter 6. I hope everyone is enjoying it so far, and updates will be coming your way more frequently. Please read and review, because your comments help me write, and I just love this! Satisfies my Smithy love! ;) x_

**Reflections – Chapter 6**

PC Stamp placed the packet of crisps and can of Cola down on the table in front of Kieran and sat down, offering the boy a placatory smile. The gesture was returned with an appeased grin as the little boy opened his packet of crisps and began to chew feverishly; like he hadn't eaten in a long time. Now that Tony thought about it, he did look rather pale and thin. Maybe he ought to be asking some questions…

"So Kieran, what brings a little boy like you to a big police station like this?" At that, Kieran stopped munching and looked at Tony.

"I'm not a little boy." He suddenly stood up and flexed his arms in a '_look at my muscles_' way that he had seen the wrestlers do on TV. "I'm a BIG boy. Look!" He continued to flex his arms.

"Well let me see here." Tony leaned forward in the chair and pretended to put on glasses. He gasped. "Well knock me down! You ARE a big boy! My mistake, how could I miss those massive muscles?" Kieran grinned at Tony, before sitting down again and smiling at him, almost bursting with pride.

"Told you." After this revelation, he returned to munching on his crisps, before opening his can of juice and taking a drink. Tony smiled at him and sat back in the chair, taking a deep breath. He was pleased that the young boy was in a good mood again, but that didn't detract from what he'd witnessed earlier that day. Worse still, Tony was now faced with the task of questioning him about the incident, to try and get a grip on what Kieran knew. It was a task he certainly wasn't looking forward to, but it had to be done. He returned to sitting normally and looked at Kieran, sighing slightly.

"Well then Kieran, I was wondering what a big boy like you would want to do here? You're not in trouble are you? Because you don't look like trouble to me, but with those big muscles….."

Kieran looked at him with solemn eyes that showed he was telling the truth.

"No police officer Stamp." He shook his head. Tony smiled.

"It's ok. You can call me Tony."

Kieran nodded.

"Ok. To-ny." It was like he was trying the name out for size. Luckily, it fit. "Tony, I'm not in trouble. Honest." He put his juice down. "I was playing outside today, and I went past some garages. But the garages were weird, and one of them smelled bad. There was some stuff coming out of it on the ground, and I lifted the door." He indicated his arms. "I'm strong, so it was easy. It opened and….."

Suddenly, he was very quiet and subdued again, looking down at the table. Tony ruffled his hair.

"It's ok. I know what happened when you opened the door. You found the lady didn't you?"

At first Kieran didn't answer, but then slowly he nodded his head.

"She didn't look well, so I was scared. But somebody came along and told me to come out. She was a nice lady, and she phoned you."

Tony nodded. They had interviewed the older woman – Nora Callard – at the scene, but she didn't have anything to add. She had merely found Kieran in the garage – she didn't know anything else.

"So you didn't stay in the garage. You came out like the lady told you to. Is that what happened?"

The child nodded, clearly wishing that he didn't have to talk about it. Sadly, Tony couldn't spare him the pain

"Where was your mum while you were playing outside?"

The question made the little boy even more sad looking, and Tony suddenly dreaded the reply he was going to be faced with.

"She's not here. She's in heaven." He looked up at Tony, and his eyes were flooded with a sorrow and anguish that no child should ever experience. It made for a horrible acknowledgement.

"Is she? I'm sorry." He paused a minute before continuing. "So who do you live with?"

Kieran suddenly lifted something out of his pocket and gave it to Tony. When he picked it up and looked properly he could see that it was a photograph, of a young boy (Kieran) grinning inanely at the camera beside a man pulling an equally silly face. The man was white, with thick brown tousled hair and deep brown eyes. He bore a striking resemblance to Kieran, even down to the shape of the mouth as they both grinned. Tony deduced that he must be the father.

"Daddy. His name's Kevin. He works as a fireman in the city." Tony smiled at Kieran as he handed him back the photograph. The little boy picked it up in his small hands and put it back in his pocket.

"That's a nice picture. Your dad seems like a nice man. Where is he just now Kieran?"

"He'll be at work." He said it with such childhood innocence.

"Work? But then who's looking after you?" Tony was surprised. The man in the photo didn't look like the kinda guy to leave his kid in on their own unsupervised.

"Ashleigh. She's my big sister." He pulled a face as if he had just smelled something foul. "She's a girl." This last bit was said with distaste, and it made Tony smile.

"So Ashleigh was looking after you for a little while was she? Why did she let you go outside on your own?"

"She didn't. She doesn't know. I asked her if I could play at the park but she said no because she was going to the shop with her friend."

Tony frowned. What an irresponsible sister!

"Do you know what her friend's name is?"

Kieran nodded, proud of himself.

"Yep! Her name's Chloe. She's a girl too." He pulled the same face as before. Tony was amazed at the little guy. Even after everything he had seen, he was still able to be happy and innocent. The little fella was a comedian.

"Ok. Tell me, does Ashleigh have a phone?"

Kieran nodded.

"Uh-huh. Daddy always says she's glued to it, and it makes me laugh." He grinned again, and Tony grinned too. It was infectious!

"Ok Kieran. I'll be 2 seconds." He stood up and moved over to the side, near the rack for the trays. He watched as Kieran once again picked up his crisps and munched the remainder of the packet's contents. That gave him a minute or two to contact Smithy. He opted for his phone, instead of his radio.

"Sir." He spoke once Smithy picked up.

"Tony. What's happening is everything OK with Kieran?"

"Yes sir. Except well, I was asking him about today. I asked him why he was outside on his own."

Smithy coughed before speaking again. "And what did he say?"

Tony continued to watch the little boy drink his juice and play with the cord on the hood of his jacket.

"He said that his sister Ashleigh had told him not to go out, because she was going shopping with her friend Chloe. So once she had left he had gone out to play."

Over the other end of the phone Smithy was incredulous.

"So she left her little brother in on his own? Where are his parents?"

"The dad works as a fireman in the city. His name is Kevin. His mum is dead."

"Ok. So the dad is working, and he asks his daughter to watch her brother. Right, we need to find his big sister and bring her here to collect him. Can you get a mobile number for her?"

"Possibly. Kieran says she has a phone, but wouldn't I be better contacting the father? I can find his work number easier than her mobile."

Smithy had to agree. "Yeah, good thinking. Call the local fire stations and find out which one Kevin Hayes works for, then get him to come and collect his son. Maybe he can get in touch with Ashleigh."

"Sure thing sir." He hung up the phone and walked back to the table. Kieran grinned at him.

"You ok PC Tony?"

Tony grinned back at him.

"I'm fine. Hey, I need to find your dad so that he can take you home. How would you like to come with me to the bit of the station where I work? Hmm? See us cops in action!"

Kieran was grinning from ear to ear, thrilled to pieces at this prospect.

"Yay! Let's go!"

"Thanks again PC Stamp, and thank you to you too Inspector Smith. It was good of you to look after Kieran this afternoon." There stood Kevin Hayes, holding his son's hand and his other arm wrapped around his 14 year old daughter Ashleigh.

"That's alright Mr. Hayes; we were just concerned that Kieran was alright. And…" Smithy turned to Ashleigh who was sporting a bright red face. Her long brown curls cascaded down her front and back, and she wore a long pink coat with a white glittery top and baby blue jeans. "Ashleigh, I hope you won't be going out and leaving your brother on his own again?"

She shook her head.

"No. Sorry Inspector." She turned to look at her dad. "Sorry dad. It won't happen again."

He smiled kindly at her, and hugged her in tight.

"That's ok. We can talk about it at home. I'm just glad you're both alright."

Smithy and Tony smiled at the family. They were clearly the glue that held each other together, and it was sweet to see.

"I'm glad everything's ok Mr. Hayes." Tony smiled, and Kieran grinned back.

"Well, we'd best be off. Let's go kids." Kevin and his two children set off out of the station, turning around briefly to smile and say:

"Goodbye Officers. Thanks again." Kieran waved at them "Bye Inspector Smithy! Bye Tony!"

They both waved back, each one grinning at Kieran's enthusiasm.

Once the family had gone, Smithy and Tony turned to look at each other.

"I'm glad Kieran's going to be ok. Mostly, that's down to you Tony. You clearly engaged well with him."

Tony nodded, remembering Kieran's infectious laughter.

"Thanks sir. He's a good kid. I just hope we find this guy before more bodies turn up. I'd hate to think that some other child'll come across what Kieran did."

Smithy nodded solemnly.

"I agree. Thanks again for looking after him. I had to deal with the young woman who came into reception earlier."

Tony perked up. "Ah, was it something important?"

"Yeah. Why don't you come back to my office, we'll grab a drink, and I'll explain. It's been a crap day."

**End of Chapter 6.**


	7. Chapter 7

_Hey ok next chapter. Sorry it has been a while, but I still love writing this fic, and updates will be more frequent. Promise! Also, sorry that chapter 5 was so short. I just didn't think that Lana's version of events would be very articulate. I felt she would be sketchy and maybe have forgotten a few things. I hope that's ok, and this chapter will be longer. So keep reading and reviewing as they keep me motivated. Thanks x_

**Chapter 7 – Reflections**

Outside, the rain thundered down at an impressive speed; showing no signs of relenting. It was then that Smithy spared a thought for his colleagues out on the beat: drenched and bone-weary. It would be a long shift, quiet or not, and under no circumstances did he envy them that job. Smithy observed this dreary weather from his comfortable, mock-leather black sofa as he waited on a takeaway he'd ordered twenty minutes previous. On reflection, it had been a long day for him too, and a stressful one at that. It seemed a silly thing to say that a day in the police had been stressful; everyday in the police was filled with stress. He just felt that that day had been particularly difficult. It was all surrounding the young woman who had come into the station that day, asking for help. Smithy had been there at the time, and so he offered to help her, taking her into the interview room to hear what she had to say. It had been a harrowing tale: she had been walking home from work one evening when, as she entered the park near her apartment building, she was attacked and raped. No one was around to help her, and the young woman had eventually staggered home before trying to gather up the courage to contact the police. Throughout the whole story, Smithy's jaw had been clenched firmly shut, aware of his own rising anger. He didn't even know this woman, and yet he felt like he wanted to find the man who had attacked her and tear his…well, did it need saying? It was the same with all rape cases, but thankfully by this point Smithy had developed a sure-fire way of channelling his anger into his work; a good result was satisfaction enough. He just couldn't help wondering if this guy would go down for his sick crimes. He had attacked several women in a short space of time, but sadly only one of them had so far agreed to testify, and that was the girl: Lana Crowley. The rest were either too scared, or simply unable to provide any sustainable information, and Smithy knew that with just one witness the case wouldn't make it to court. Nothing would stick, and the bastard would go free! Just the thought of it created a gnawing anger in Inspector Smith that he himself was surprised at. When had he gotten so involved? Why did he feel like this was more than just professional? It baffled him; he'd dealt with rape cases in the past, and yet this one felt like…like it held more for him. It wasn't a problem; his professionalism would remain priority. After everything he had found himself involved in during the Devlin case, Smithy had decided he was going to keep himself whiter than white. Besides, he was an Inspector now, and with that incredible honour carried a tremendous amount of responsibility. The last thing he would do was jeopardise his career, after all the effort he had put into building it up over the years. However, he still felt an invisible connection between himself and this case, and that perplexed him. But he'd have to worry about that later, he thought, as the buzzer finally went to indicate the arrival of the delivery man.

"Alright mate, that'll be £9.80." Smithy scoffed, but begrudgingly handed over the money. £9.80 for a beef curry! Including delivery, that was still extortionate! As he pocketed his wallet, Smithy gave the delivery man a look that said '_for £9.80 this meal better make me weep with joy at every mouthful, or else I'm going to find creative ways of making your robbing git of a boss pay me back!' _However the delivery man – stood in his very own puddle of rainwater – clearly wasn't interested in Smithy's telepathically-inferred threats. Instead, he just pocketed the money, handed Smithy his 20p change, grunted his version of an 'alright' and then left, his trainers making a squeaking sound akin to that of a mouse being repeatedly danced upon. Smithy shut his apartment door and headed into the kitchen, putting the bag down on the counter. As he opened his wallet to replace the 20p, he noticed something. Something that should have been so obvious to him from the beginning, but that his brain had clearly omitted from his thought process. Once he unzipped the larger compartment of his wallet, it was only then that he figured out why this particular rape case was having such an impact on him. Right there, no bigger than a packet of cigarettes, was a photograph of the reason. Long, gorgeous blonde locks tied up in a bun, police uniform placed perfectly over her intoxicatingly beautiful body, lips full and blush pink, reminding him of the sweetness of their taste. Kerry. His Kerry. And now it all made sense.

He lay in bed that night, rain continuing to pound the windows, and he thought of her. Of Kerry, and all the things they had been through. The times when they had argued or when they had been trying to keep their hands off of each other, and also the times when they had stopped trying! It brought back a pain in Smithy's heart that he'd long since forgotten, but over the years – whilst still remaining painful – things had gotten better for him. He'd managed to confine his sorrow and heartbreak until it seemed almost miniature, but he'd never truly lost it, only because he knew if he lost it then he would lose himself. He had always vowed that, while he would move on from Kerry, he would never forget her. She would always hold a place in his heart that – to this day – no one else had been able to get to. That said, he had opened himself up to another relationship…with DC Kezia Walker. However, in the short time he was with her, he had never experienced those moments when the breath was knocked from him; the moments where everything else melted away to leave just him and her, together. It all seemed really 'Hollywood', but that's how he had felt with Kerry. It was as if when they were together nothing could touch them; they were invincible. Except they weren't, as he had been forced to realise one horrible day. It was an average day for most at Sun Hill, except it wasn't. Some terrible stuff happened that day, and everyone in turn had been affected. A lot of it was a mystery to Smithy's memory, but the main scene was still clear in his mind as if it had happened yesterday. He could see it clear as day: him, holding Kerry in his arms, blood soaked and terrified. She had looked so fragile; so scared, and although it pained him to admit…..so alone. He had always sworn he would be there for her, throughout her ordeal at the hands of the evil Gabriel Kent. Smithy had made it his mission to have Gabriel held accountable for his actions, but instead he had surrendered the love of his life to the evil son-of-a-bitch, and it sickened him! It had been so painful and he had been overcome with a white hot pain in his heart that – at the time – had threatened to floor him completely. It had almost ended his life for him, but over time he had managed to overcome any emotional obstacles and eventually he had moved on – almost scar-free. When he had first lifted the photograph out of his wallet, he'd realised what was special about this case. One of the victims – Alicia Moore – bore a striking resemblance to Kerry, except she was slightly smaller in height, and wore heavier make-up. Other than that, the similarities were quite stark. He had found Alicia's body three days ago at the local reservoir, but at the time she was too mutilated to make anything of. It was only once they had managed to locate her presumably hidden purse in a green bin on neighbouring Turnpike Road that they had discovered who she was. The purse had contained a student union card for the university, and a bank card plus £23 in notes and coins. When Smithy had looked at the photograph on her student union card, it was difficult to get a handle on what she truly looked like; as everyone knows those photos never look 100% like the person they depict. However, once the family had been located, Smithy had met with them to inform them of their daughter's death (not a task to relish in). They had been distraught, as she was studying to become a lawyer, and she had a promising future ahead of her. She had been the top of her maths class at high school, and had even gained a few literary awards in her final year. He remembered all this because he needed to humanise the women. He couldn't let them become just bodies; victims. They needed to stay human beings with lives and relatives, and so he listened intently to every word the family members had to say, and he retained as much of the information as he could. Once they had talked for a bit, he had gotten the father – Martin Moore – to give him a framed picture of Alicia that clearly showed her face. It was a pretty picture; one which the family had had done at a professional studio 3 months previously. At the time Smithy hadn't really thought about her resemblance to Kerry; he had been more preoccupied with work. It was only once he was in the quiet solitude of his apartment, looking at a photograph of Kerry, that he made the connection. Putting the photo back in his wallet – which he placed on the bedside table – he got up to go to the bathroom. Upon his return, he switched off the bedroom light and flopped down into bed, exhausted after the troubles of the day. A small smile crept over his lips as he pictured Kerry telling him she loved him, and him returning the affection. That single warm moment was what helped him eventually drop off to sleep, safe under the covers of his bed, dreaming of the girl with the golden locks…

**End of Chapter 7.**


	8. Chapter 8

_Right, here we are at Chapter 8 of this one. Hope you're all enjoying it so far. I will get a shift on and ud more often. Things have been hectic, so this one might be a bit shorter too, but I'll keep 'em coming. So please keep reading and reviewing, cos you guys keep this going. If you have any comments or thoughts on how the story should go – or what you'd like to see in it – let me know. I wanna keep my readers happy. Tah x_

**Chapter 8 – Reflections**

Mark got home from work about 10pm that night. It had been a particularly tiring shift, not made any easier by having to work with Harry. At the best of times, Mark tried to be objective and not judge anyone, but Harry was something else entirely. It wasn't so much that he was always late – although that in itself wound Mark up beyond belief – but the incessant chatter! Always talking, sometimes about nothing in particular, and having an opinion on everything. Everything! It was almost as if he just did it because he loved the sound of his own voice. Whatever his reasons were, Mark could often envisage himself throttling the bugger! Sometimes he would start talking in the midst of a shout, on one hand trying to treat a patient and get them loaded into the ambulance and on the other hand recounting some story that was funny at the time but you clearly had to be there. It drove Mark insane, but he knew that in the long run it didn't matter, just so long as he did the best job he could. Not to mention Harriet: the gorgeous 25 year old brunette that he had the pleasure of coming home to every night. His mates had often taken the opportunity to wind him up, questioning her sanity for dating an average joe like Mark. It seemed weird, but he sometimes found himself asking the same question. She was tall with long, curly brown hair and caramel coloured skin. He was albeit tall, but with short spiky ginger hair and pale freckly skin, and nothing near to a six-pack. She walked around smelling of the most expensive perfumes, fruity and sweet. He, on the other hand, often came home smelling of a combination of sweat and sick (a problem with the paramedic's night shift: drunks.) She wore a combination of the latest fashions – but not tacky – and had a curvaceous figure to pull them off. He wore whatever he felt comfortable in, and had a strange penchant for blue jumpers. However, despite all of that, he had somehow managed to meet Harriet, and she had fallen for him almost as much as he had fallen for her. They were the perfect mis-matched pair, and the envy in men's eyes as they walked past together created the biggest smile on Mark's face. So after a difficult day-shift in the ambulance (stab victim, stroke, 2 hoax calls and a bloodied-up loser of a fight), Mark couldn't wait to just slip into bed with his girl. So when he got home he assumed he'd find her either on the couch watching some soap opera on the telly or in the bath. That's why the panic instantly took over him when he found no trace of her in their modern deco flat and no sign of a note offering him an explanation. Harriet didn't work, and she would always let him know if she was heading out somewhere so that he knew what was happening. Besides, where would she need to be at 10pm on a Wednesday night? Having not received any messages for her since the cheeky one at lunch, he decided to try calling her mobile. He picked up the house phone and dialled, slamming it down as it rung out. Where could she be? Had she gone to visit her friend Erin and just maybe lost track of time? He dialled Erin's home number and waited.

"Hi Harriet." The familiarity to Erin's soft Scottish tone calmed him down, but only for a second. She had asked for Harriet. She clearly wasn't at Erin's house, so where was she?

"No, it's Mark. How did you know it was our number anyway?"

"I screen my calls Mark. What's up?"

He bit his lip. This really worried him.

"Oh it's, well I was just wondering if Harriet was there. Clearly she isn't so…"

Instantly, Erin's voice grew more concerned.

"No she isn't. Don't you know where she is?" As soon as she answered, she then said, "stupid question. You wouldn't be calling me if you did. Have you tried her phone?"

"Yeah. She isn't answering. This isn't like her Erin; something's happened."

"Well get out in your car and go look for her then. I'll get dressed and you can pick me up, right?"

"Ok. See you in 10."

He hung up the phone, the sick feeling of dread building in his stomach.

Tony's phone rang at about 7.30am that morning.

He wasn't actually due in the station until 9, but he'd gotten himself up especially early to have time to make a fry up. It was a cold, rainy morning and the last thing he wanted was another breakfast of packet sandwiches and a takeaway coffee, so he resolved to have enough time to sit down to a warm, lip-smacking breakfast. Just out the shower, he dried and dressed himself in jeans, a polo shirt and his shoes, sitting his jacket upon a smooth light-coloured wooden kitchen chair as he began preparing said fry-up. He lifted an egg and two slices of bacon out of the fridge, sitting them on the worktop whilst he got out a pan and oil. Once the initial prep. was done, he cracked the egg delicately into the pan and watched as it spread out and sizzled perfectly, them smell filling his nostrils. He then sat the two rashers in the pan and tidied up the mess. Just as it was on cooking – the smell heartened him – he switched on the little telly he had perched upon his kitchen counter. It wasn't anything fancy – just a small 13'' flat screen with the five terrestrial channels, and he found that he'd grown accustomed to watching a new early morning talk show on Channel 5. It was funny, but every time he tuned in, he couldn't help but laugh at seeing the male host who bore a striking resemblance to an ex-colleague: Craig Gilmore. Sergeant Gilmore had been at Sun Hill for a few years before leaving – not under the best circumstances as Tony remembered – and although he and Gilmore weren't the best of friends, they got on. On a professional level mainly, but he wouldn't say no to a drink with the guy. It just made him laugh, seeing this Gilmore-alike fronting a show that was the male equivalent of Loose Women! He could imagine Gilmore on the show having a right old bitch and rant about something or other. Just as he had another chuckle at this idea, his thought process was broken by a sudden noise.

The phone ringing.

"Hello?" He had picked it up begrudgingly, knowing that it couldn't be good.

"Tony, it's Smithy."

Inspector Smith, one of Tony's oldest friends. The two had met when Smithy first arrived at Sun Hill in 1999, a young fresh faced PC with a troubled past. They had been sort of friends at first, but as the days turned into months, and the months turned into years, they had worked together so many times that they very soon became good, close friends. They had always been loyal to each other, and helped one another out, with Smithy looking out for Tony once he became a Sergeant, and even in his transition through to Inspector. Nothing would ever come between them, and Tony knew that Smithy would always be the guy who kept him laughing and smiling on the job – unbeknownst to him that that was exactly what he did for Smithy. However, today his Inspector sounded harassed, and very tired.

"Sir. What can I do you for?"

He could hear a sigh, and then a quick cough before the answer came.

"I'm sorry to do this to you so early in the morning, especially as your not due in for another hour and a half, but I need you to get down here to Canley Common, just off Infirmary Road. Another body's been found."

Tony's heart sank. He knew it was inevitable, but he had just hoped that there might be some respite. He could already imagine the frustration and anger that Smithy felt: a rage akin to that of Tony's, but it would hit the Inspector harder. After all, he was the investigating officer here, along with Mickey and Bansky from CID, so anything and everything that happened in this case was a reflection on Smithy. It wasn't fair – he wasn't to be the scapegoat – but that, sadly, was how it was.

"Not a problem Sir. I'll be there in about 10 minutes."

He knew the route to Canley Common wasn't far from his house, and so he could estimate he'd be there in less than five. Just better to give himself those extra few minutes to go and get changed at the station.

"Thanks Tony. See you then."

He hung up. Tony replaced his phone into its sleek black holder and headed across to the table. Grabbing his jacket, he flung it on and then suddenly it hit him: his breakfast! He rushed to the cooker to see the remains of what had once been a tasty fry-up now crumbling in the pan, burnt beyond recognition. He took one lat look at it and mourned for the loss of the breakfast that could have been, before turning the cooker off and heading out the back door. Looked likely to be another sandwich/coffee morning for him.

'_Ah well' _he thought as he locked the door and headed round the front to his car, _'can't beat that over-filled-with-mayonnaise sandwich taste in the morning anyway!'_

**End of Chapter 8**


	9. Chapter 9

_Ok, Chapter 9 of this one. I feel I've neglected a certain aspect of this story that I introduced earlier: the suspect – Conrad James. I brought him in, and then just left it. I just forgot about him – how bad is that? So I'm gonna wrap that up here, plus keep the action going. So the first part of this will be set the night of Conrad's arrest, but then the next part will be set at the crime scene with the discovery of a new body. I do apologise that it is this way; I just failed to tie up the Conrad part of this story, so that WILL be rectified in the next few chapters. Sorry again guys. Enjoy xx_

**Chapter 9 – Reflections**

Night. Conrad's Cell. 4 hours after questioning.

He lay, encased in his own thoughts, re-living that same moment over and over again. **Rape. **That's what the officer had said. At first Conrad just thought the old geezer was messing with him, but nope. He had been arrested and questioned under suspicion of rape, but Conrad hadn't done anything! Not like that anyway. Yeah, sure, he'd nicked a car, driven it round the city for a bit, but that's as bad as it got. He certainly wasn't a…someone filthy like that! He had a baby sister! He would have died for her, and knowing that those women had been….knowing what had happened, seeing them photos….he coulda cried. And he was a bloke! He never cried, not even when he was getting his bollocks kicked in by Toby Fisher and his mates! This was big; too big for him, and he wasn't gonna go down for it. He had to tell them the truth – that he'd had no part in any rapes – but that'd mean giving himself up for the car theft, and he was already on probation for the same thing!

Conrad sat up and stared at the blank walls of his cell. Pale, cream coloured stone walls – harsh and unforgiving, the silence pounding in his head; almost as if the cell itself were judging him.

"I didn't do it! I didn't fucking rape no one!" He yelled, top of his lungs style, the sound reverberating off of his four suffocating walls, to be heard by the custody sergeant only. But no one came. No one listened to his pleas; his pain, and the anger mounting up in Conrad was soon quashed by sheer desperation and sadness. How could they think he would do that? At that moment, he thought of his mum; her smile, the way she would pick him up and cuddle him if he cried, and the way she would cut his sandwiches into triangles because that was the way he loved them. Rubbing his hand along his forehead, he sighed; the sound shaking as his emotions became too much. He knew what they said: _you always see your past through rose tinted glasses._ Well, if that's how he chose to remember his mum, then he'd stick to that. The past didn't need dredging up, because that's what it was: the past.

As he lay back down, Conrad could feel the sadness in him easing, as extreme tiredness took over. Even the hunger he had been feeling – _when did he last eat?_ – had eased off, and instead he could begin to feel his eyelids pushing down, the unmistakable sting of tired eyes. Succumbing to the fatigue growing on him, he put his head back and slid his eyes shut, desperate for it all to be over.

"So you understand Conrad? You're being bailed, to return on the 14th. Got that?"

Callum's strong, assertive tones seemed to sink in, because Conrad chose to look demure, rather than smug.

"Yep. Got it."

He just stood, desperate to get out that station soon as was humanly possible. To be perfectly honest, the place gave him the creeps. Ever since he'd been a kid, cops scared him - he never knew why – and so he vowed that he'd do his best never to end up in one. Obviously, given his past record he'd FAILED in that mission, but that didn't mean he'd conquered the fear. No, he'd just been stupid and got caught.

"Right. Here's your stuff. PC Ryder, can you show Conrad out of the building please?"

Mel stepped forward and stood by Conrad's side.

"Of course Sir. This way." She led him through the double doors and on the journey round to the front office. As the double doors closed behind her, Callum busied himself with tidying the custody files, positively ignoring the drunkard shouting coming from Cell 3.

A few days later.

_Hi, this is Rashid Kapoor, reporting for BBC News 24. I'm here at Canley Common in Canley, London, where a discovery has been made in connection with an ongoing rape investigation. Metropolitan Police officers can confirm that the body of a young woman has been found curled up in the grass. When asked for details, the officer simply said to me that she was a young woman from the local area, but intelligence says she is that of 24 year old Patricia Taylor, an aspiring young model who also happened to be studying a prestigious law degree at Cambridge University. __**(A picture flashes up on screen. She is wearing a floaty floral dress and is posing in a supermodel stance. She is laughing at whatever the camera bearer has said to her.)**__ Family and friends will be informed in due course. Back to the studio._

Superintendant Meadows just stood, eyes staring fixedly at the screen, almost as if he were willing the screen to burst into a huge ball of flames. Behind him, a nervous Detective Constable Mickey Webb stood, unsure whether alerting the Superintendant to this broadcast had been a good idea or not. He could just imagine the aftermath: funeral, flower wreaths, pictures of a happier, smiley Mickey – with all his limbs still attached. It'd be a beautiful service, with GOOD music blasting out of the stereo (not that soppy stuff most funerals had!). There'd be cakes, sausages and crisps, and plenty of beer to go round, and people would be crying, so many people devoted to the wonderful, never-forgotten Mickey Webb! They'd all remember Mickey fondly, back in the days when his dinners weren't administered intravenously. _'Mickey Webb' _they'd say '_was a wonderful, prosperous young man, who was taken from us too soon. He had his whole life ahead of him; wife, kids, sex scandal(!)' _his would be followed by uproarious laughter at Smithy's witticisms. Ah, he could see it now…..

"Mickey!"

He shuddered, brought crashing back to earth with a thud; visions of his dream funeral having vanished in a single motion. As he blinked to refocus, he was met with the angry – if not slightly amused – eyes of Superintendant Meadows.

"Sir?"

"Mickey, I SAID we better phone Smithy to come here and see this. That's if he hasn't already seen the bastard press hanging around anyway." Shaking off some of his stress, Jack grinned bemusedly at Mickey.

"You alright Mickey? Seemed you were miles away there."

Mickey suddenly remembered. His limbs! He looked down and – to his immense relief – noticed they were all still there. He assumed that meant the foot-shaped dent in his head wasn't there either.

"I'm fine Sir. Just….thinking."

Jack tried a wry smile.

"I'm not mad. Not at you anyway. But somebody leaked information to the press, and I wanna know who."

He picked up his desk phone and quickly dialled a set of digits. It rang for a few seconds, before finally he was connected.

"Smithy, it's Superintendant Meadows. You need to get back here now. Yeah I know you're busy, but this is important! It is linked, yes. What's that? Okay. Yeah. Right, my office, soon as you can."

He hung up, instantly feeling guilty about snapping at Smithy. This wasn't his fault either. None of it was their fault. He'd just feel better once he had someone to blame for all this mess!

"Right, when Smithy gets back here, he needs to see this. Then…?" He looked imploringly at Mickey. "Any ideas who could've done this?" He rubbed his forehead in frustration. "The thought that any officer in this place would be so…amateur…it's a scary thought."

Mickey just stood, unsure what to do. _My money's on this being a Max Carter cock-up! _He thought, deciding not to drop that into the mix just yet. For the minute the Super wasn't in tune to Max's…habit, and that suited Mickey just fine. For now.

"Great(!)" Smithy growled, already in a shit mood from earlier. The day had only just begun and already he'd had to deal with ANOTHER dead body, an irritable journalist that had been denied access, a traffic jam on the way back to the station, and now this. He wondered at what point God would admit enough was enough and just strike him down.

"Mickey let me know as soon as he saw it. Smithy, I need to know: what officers are down at the scene?"

Smithy frowned at his question.

"Hold-you don't think that one of our officers would have leaked this?"

Meadows sighed.

"I'd hope not, but how else would the press have gotten her name? You'd have to be prrretty talented to pluck that out of nowhere."

Even Smithy – ever supportive of his team – had to admit that this smacked of an inside job. But why? Surely they wouldn't be stupid enough to take money for it? Would they even get money?

"Okay then, say someone here did do it. Who are we thinking?"

"Well I asked who's down at the cordon?"

Smithy tried to recount everyone in his head.

"PC Stamp – who came straight from home. PC Roberts, PC Huddersfield and PC Forrest. Plus Eddie, DS Moss and….." He strained to remember anyone else. Then it clicked. Over by the body with Eddie. "DS Carter."

_Bingo!_

Mickey had no doubt in his mind that this was down to Max, and he was determined to prove it. But in his own time. Verbalising his suspicions now would only lead to issues later. So for now, he chose to remain silent.

"Right, well then we need to speak to each one individually."

Smithy held a hand up in protest.

"Not now surely! That crime scene is hectic, and I need as many officers down there as possible to contain it."

As if in recognition of this fact, Meadows looked at his wall clock.

"Definitely. Okay, so we say….2 hours time? They'll be back by then, and will have had refs. That gives us time to try and clear up this scene, and get Eddie to hard labour down in the lab."

Smithy and Mickey nodded, both feeling as antsy as the next. This was getting disastrously out of hand, and no one could feel the clock ticking more.

**End of Chapter 9.**

**(p.s. not entirely sure about the last couple of chapters, maybe needing to consider where this story is going and get a picture in my head. As always, reviews and comments – good or bad – are extremely helpful. Thanks.)**


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